


Home is with you

by MommaVanillaBear



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Chubby Baker AU, Holiday nuetral, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 19:38:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8858158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MommaVanillaBear/pseuds/MommaVanillaBear
Summary: With the Holiday break coming up Stanley doesn't want to be home for the Holiday- what is his twin supposed to do once seeing him looking miserable and cold?Try to make it better of course!





	

Stanley was always quite aware of certain facts in his life- certain truths, unchanging in their ways, such as that the Earth was round, the sky was blue, and that he was the biggest screw up to ever walk the planet. 

Whilst the holiday break was fast approaching most students in the Shard Beach High School were busy making plans and chattering excitedly in the halls of presents they were hoping to get and in return gifts they would be soon purchasing for loved ones; however not every student was excited for the break. Holiday break meant no school, and in turn no school meant free time- free time to Stanley Pines meant once more being stuck at home to play punching bag for his father, both physically, and mentally. Sitting up on the roof to get away from the laughing voices in the halls and the smell of food in the cafeteria Stanley sat alone, legs swung over the edge as he watched the snow flurries fall to the earth; large, frigid and wet they landed on his exposed arms and nose, occasionally a few getting caught in his lashes. Oh, how he wished he hadn’t mouthed off that morning, maybe then his father would have let him leave the house with his coat and lunch. Sighing out a mouthful of white mist Stanley laid back, his white t-shirt already becoming wet from the melting snow as his fingers and toes went numb- he tried desperately to ignore the rumbling in his stomach, trying not to think of the peanut butter and banana sandwich he packed for the lunch, or the cream cheese brownies he made; he even craved a salad at that point, the slice of toast he had for breakfast already being digested and energy used.

“Stanley?” A voice called from the door way leading back to the staircase, upon having saw the twin laying down the voice of Stanford called louder. “Stanley! What are you doing out here?! You’re going to catch your death!”

“Then go back inside!” Was the halfhearted snapping back of Stanley, his back curling as he sat back up, swinging his legs back over the edge to turn and face his twin; “I thought I said to go back in.”

Stanford’s hazel eyes narrowed, continuing to walk forward until he too sat on the lip of the roof’s edge, just mere inches away, his breath a fine mist in front of Stanley’s face, glasses partially fogged. “Come on Stanley, why don’t you come inside, it’s freezing.”

“Why should I?” Stanley’s lips tugged into a frown, his bare arms wrapping around his faded blue jean clad knees, for a moment he looked ready to cry, his chin tucking down in between his bent knees. “All they do is talk about holiday plans- and how nice it is that we’re having holiday break soon- and even if I wanted to get away from the noise in the halls, all I can do is smell food…” His voice went soft. “And I’m so hungry…”

The silence surrounding them was only broken by a whimper and a growl, Stanley’s eyes clenched shut whilst his stomach roared in protest; moving closer Stanford tugged the pack off his back at last, pulling out a wrinkled brown lunch bag. Pulling out a tin foil wrapped square he handed it to Stanley, rubbing the tin foil on his arm to catch his twin’s attention, the look in Stanley’s eyes making him frown even more.

“Come on Stanley, I packed your lunch when Pop’s wasn’t looking- come on, eat it, you’ll feel better.” Seeing his brother’s vague expression, he frowned. “Please eat it? I’ll eat mine- look I even brought mine, and a couple of apples… please Stanley, I know you feel horrible about what Pop’s said about your eating habits- but he’s wrong! You deserve food as much as I do and anyone else, hell, I love watching you eat, the small smile on your face when you eat something sweet- the frown when you eat something sour… please Stanley, eat with me?”

Tearing up at his words Stanley nodded, taking the tin foil wrapped sandwich; slowly he unwrapped it, taking a small bite of the peanut butter banana sandwich, his stomach roaring with relief once he took the first bite and swallowed, a stray tear falling down his cheek.

“I don’t want to be stuck at home for break, you know he’s just going to get worse with each day we’re home.” Stanley spoke in between bites, finishing the sandwich before taking the offered apple. “I just- I wish there was somewhere we could go- just the two of us; a home of our very own for the holiday, you know?”

It was in that moment that Stanford’s eyes lit up, nodding in agreeance to Stanley’s words.

“I think I may have an idea Stanley.”

 

From being out in the cold for the hour-long lunch period Stanley found himself sick in bed for several days in a feverish haze; at times when he was lucid he would sit up and slowly drink the broth and tea his mother would bring, but at times the poor sick twin found himself in a feverish state where nothing made sense and the blankets felt more oppressive than a provider of warmth. Half-naked and soaked in sweat Stanley laid in bed, tangled up in the blankets whilst he held onto Stanford’s pillow, his face pressed against it as he took long, greedy whiffs, crying out for his twin in his feverish need, only calming down once Stanford came home from school, Stanley’s overheated cheeks pressed to his twins’ cold hands much like a cat would rub against its owner. 

“Mmm, Stanfyyy!” He cried, having just been detangled from his blanket, already being tucked back into bed by his twin. “I missed you so much! It’s soooo quiet without you here!”

“Now Stanley, please lower your voice, Ma and pops are down stairs.” Stanford hushed, thankful the door was closed, his hands once more reaching for the bag of ice as he pressed it to Stanley’s forehead. “Shhh, it’s okay, just ice. Ice will help lower the fever; and soon, when you are feeling better I have a surprise for you- I have been working on it for the past several days.”

A soft moan was Stanley’s only response, his glossy eyes shut as he laid back, his mouth opened as his nose was far too stuffed to breath; sleepily he reached up and took his twins hand, another moan escaping as he began to finally drift into yet another fitful sleep, however, this time rather than dreaming of the shadow that threatened to consume him and his brother, he dreamt of kisses and touches, his body twisting and bucking for a reason other than fever.

 

“I don’t understand why you’re wasting your time baking when you could be out helping Stanford in the shop, if you think you’re going to be sitting on your ass all break you have another thing coming.”

Despite the cruel words coming from Filbricks lips Stanley stood with his back to him, focusing on the batter he currently hand mixed rather than what the other was saying. ‘Just a few more minutes’ was the mantra in his head as he went about his holiday baking- having woken up early that morning to make a traditional fruitcake and several batches of bell shaped snickerdoodle cookies- currently he waited for the oven to re-heat.

“Are you listening to me?!” Filbrick’s voice finally broke his mantra, the man mere inches away, it was only when he gripped his sons shoulder painfully that Stanley turned around. “I said quit your damn baking and go work in the pawn shop with Stanford!”

“I’m making brownies.” Stanley snapped back, his tone flat as he pulled over the glass baking dish, beginning to pour the batter in when he heard the huff- with brownies being his father’s favorite treat Stanley knew that he would be left alone till after they baked, which was fine by him, Stanford had told him to be ready to leave the house by four that evening with an overnight bag, and it was just near three thirty. “I won’t be home tonight.”

Stanley knew better than to hope his father would care, the frown on Ma’s face made him inwardly cringe, however, glancing to Filbrick he simply saw the man scowl before grumbling, “Don’t freeze out there, because I’m not leaving the house to get you.”

“Didn’t plan on it.” Stanley shot back, already packing a few cookies in a make shift tin boil bag, his hands shaking with silent anger- oh how he couldn’t wait till he was legally able to leave, to be out on his own would be better than being some place that didn’t feel like home. Wiping his hands on the make shift smock Stanley shot Ma a silent smile, stepping over to kiss her cheek lovingly before whispering, “don’t worry Ma, I’m sleeping somewhere warm and safe tonight with Stanford, we’ll be back in the morning.”

“You better.” She warned softly, kissing his cheek in turn before taking his smock from him, folding it gently over one arm. “I promise, I’ll get you a new one, one of these days when your father isn’t around, this one’s getting a bit worn.”

“That’s why I like it though; it reminds me of all the times I’ve baked with you growing up. Please don’t get rid of it, Ma.” Glancing to the clock he grabbed his jacket off the kitchen chair before taking the backpack, careful to tuck in the bag of cookies. “Brownies will need to bake for another twenty minutes, they’ll be fine after that.” Pressing another quick kiss to her cheek he smiled. “Love you Ma.”

“I love you too Stanley, now, get going, I’ll be fine tonight.” She reassured, moving further into the kitchen to grab a snickerdoodle, smiling sweetly to her youngest son before taking a bite, humming at the taste to show him that it was delicious. 

Heading for the front door Stanley passed the living room, he didn’t expect a farewell from his father nor did he give one, too busy heading out the door and down to the pawn shop, watching from the door way as Stanford closed the shop and pocketed a few crumpled bills from the register. Smiling brightly over at him Stanford waved, a telling look in his eyes. With the lights off and doors locked Stanford took Stanley’s hand in his, six fingers wrapping around the five carefully, holding them snugly as if they were meant to forever be interlocked. Licking his lips Stanford lugged the larger pack on his back, leading Stanley down the familiar route- one they had taken many a time growing up- to the beach. 

With winter having taken it tolls on the beach and surrounding city the usual hustle and bustle of tourists were gone, snow built up on both beach and side walk, almost perfectly pristine save for the rare foot prints of sea gulls and where the waves still licked at the shore; however it wasn’t the beach that had caught Stanley’s attention, but rather their ‘boat’ that sat just near the docks, alone and to the side, lost and forgotten to everyone but the two of them. Expecting to see it covered in snow and even more decrepit Stanley looked in surprise as the boat shimmered and blinked with the holiday lights that decorated the old glass windows and the kicked in wall that purposed as their door. A gentle hum tipped Stanley off to the fact that there was a generator set up behind it. Following his twin in awe Stanley ducked through the door to enter, pleasantly surprised to see a tarp was put over the hole to keep out some of the chill, expecting to find snow on the bottom he found only cold and hard sand- someone had shoveled it out and decorated the inside with even more red and green lights, a small heater in the center on and keeping the space toasty warm.

“Stanford did you-”

“Surprise.” He laughed softly, his eyes closing from how wide he smiled, dropping his pack on the floor, arms spread wide. “You wanted us to have a place for the holiday- well this is it, home sweet home!”

Looking around still in amazement Stanley shook his head, stepping forward to wrap his arms around his twin, holding him close, lips brushing his. “How- I mean, how did you find the money and time?”

Looking sheepish Stanford shrugged, stepping back to unpack the sleeping bag and flashlight, having noted that it was already getting dark out before they had even gotten to the beach. “Well, when you were sick I came here a few times and dug out the snow- even used some of our old holiday lights from down in the basement, I figured no one was using them, so why not make good use of the old things? As for the generator? Well, you see…” He blushed, rubbing his neck, “I used some of my allowance to rent one from the guy who runs the cotton candy machine- he thought it was a nice idea to give you a place to relax rather than being home and listening to Pops… Stanley? Why are you crying?” He asked softly, reaching out to wipe away a fat tear that rolled down Stanley’s chubby cheek, his head tilting in confusion at the display of emotion. “Are you upset? Is this not what you wanted?”

“N-no!” he sobbed, shaking his head before pulling Stanford back into his arms, holding him tightly as if he would suddenly vanish and he would wake up to find this all but a fever dream. “I want this- god I want this- but I don’t deserve this- I don’t deserve you!”

“Hey- hey! Stanley, you deserve this! You deserve me, you deserve to feel love!” Stanford argued back, ignoring the tears that soaked through his thin winter jacket; holding Stanley back just as tightly he began to rock, calming his twin until Stanley’s sobs were nothing more than mere shivers and a rare hiccup. Coercing Stanley down onto the sleeping bag Stanford dried his tears and stroked his shoulder length hair, smiling once more; reaching into Stanley’s own bag he pulled out the tin foil bag of cookies, taking one before breaking it in half, handing Stanley a piece. “I love you Stanley- you know that, don’t you?”

“Y-yeah…I love you too.” Stanley murmured, biting into the treat, his free hand moving over to take Stanford’s hand, his eyes reflection the twinkle from the holiday lights. “Someday I’m going to open my own bakery and save up lots of money- we’ll have our own home someday.”

“And when you’re baking I’m going to be teaching and making sure we keep that home. But until then,” he leant over, his lips meeting Stanley’s, tasting the salt from a stray tear and the sugar from the cookie, his tongue darting out to lick his twins’ lips, “until then, Happy Holiday Stanley.”

“Happy Holiday Stanfy…”


End file.
